


That Nice Man At The Dog Park

by Not_You



Series: Will Graham And The Accidental Harem [6]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Dogs, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Meet-Cute, Multi, Polyamory Negotiations, Puppies, blame texts from hannibal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-22
Updated: 2016-02-01
Packaged: 2018-05-15 13:14:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5786497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Not_You/pseuds/Not_You
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How Molly met Will.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Rainy Day

For Wally's eighth birthday, Molly finally caves in and gets him a puppy. He wants a dog so much, and now they have a big enough yard and with the payoff from John's life insurance she's still only working part time. Wally is a responsible kid, too. She's not dumb enough to think she'll never have to feed or walk the dog, but Wally likes animals and is very empathetic. He's the type of boy to pick up litter without being prompted, and when she and John had taken in a bird with a broken wing all those years ago, little three-year-old Wally had fretted constantly about its welfare.

This conscientiousness is part of why Molly has made the selection unilaterally and behind his back. She has a feeling that if she takes Wally to the shelter they'll end up with a dozen dogs. This way she just picks a cute little girl puppy that's already fixed and has all her shots and her microchip and all the rest of it. All the other dog stuff, dishes, bed, crate, toys, and collar, is crammed into the hatchback, buried under the emergency blankets, the emergency food, the emergency change of clothes for Wally, and the extra jackets and the first aid kit because Molly has always lived out of her car.

“Okay, kiddo,” she tells the puppy, carefully setting her onto a folded towel on the shotgun seat, “try to just stay there and not pee too much, all right?” The puppy gazes up at her, dark eyes soulful and enormous in her little grey face, and pees on the towel. It's not nearly enough to soak through, though, so Molly just laughs and drives home, where her sister is holding down the fort and probably doing more than her share of the post-party cleaning. That's fine, Molly will just sneak an extra chunk of ice cream cake into her bag of leftovers.

After John died, Wally didn't want to let Molly out of his sight. They've been working on it since, but he's still always right there when she comes back, even from checking the mailbox and other trips that are a matter of minutes. Now she smiles, scooping the puppy up and going into the house, where sure enough, Wally is waiting for her, sitting on the shoe bench and reading.

“Remember how I said you were getting one more thing today?” she asks as he looks up. 

Molly knows she's going to be cleaning up puppy shit and will probably lose at least one pair of shoes, but it's worth it for the way the kid's face lights up. The puppy seems to be a bit of a shrinking violet, but Wally is okay with that. He talks softly to her and coaxes her into his arms as Molly goes back to the car for the rest of the gear.

Most of Molly's prophecies come true, but Rainy Day (so named for matching the sky and thereby sanctifying the disappointment of it raining too hard to play outside on his birthday) is a pretty easy puppy. She's intelligent, anxious to please, and a little anxious in general. It doesn't make her snappish, though. She's a gentle, retiring dog, despite her broad head and sturdy body, and goes in fear of the neighbor cats.

Once Rainy Day is housebroken and has pretty much figured out come, sit, stay, no, up, and down and knows that she'll get the squirter if she puts her feet on anybody, Molly supposes it's about time to try taking her to the dog park. It's a nice one, roomy and shaded by big, old trees, and a fence sunk deep enough to let dogs dig, which Rainy Day loves doing. She's a skinny, rangy little thing, and will probably grow up to be enormous. Today she's smiling, her tongue lolling out of her mouth. It's snowy and clear, and a few other people are out in the crisp weather, most just standing on the perimeter and watching the dogs. It reminds Molly of the playground scene when Wally was small, and she sends up a silent prayer that the conversation will be better here.

“C'mon, Rainy Day!” Wally chirps, hopping out the second the car comes to a complete stop. Wally is adamant that the name never be shortened, despite Molly's natural inclination to call her Day. The dog follows Wally through the gate as Molly locks the car and hurries after him, hoping that there isn't some kind of rule about children opening it. At least Wally is a sensible kid, and nobody escapes. She's almost not as lucky, having to fend a little fluffy creature off with one foot as she latches the gate again.

Rainy Day is her shy self, but she's very interested in a nearby section of pipe, and goes through it when Wally calls her, bursting out the other side of the dog-or-child-sized tunnel and wagging her tail, feathery in a way that doesn't make any sense with her head. She's growing into a kind of weird-looking dog, but it's a cute weird. Molly smiles, and drifts along the fence a little to be in the sun, where it's noticeably warmer. An old dog has the same idea, coming to curl up at her feet. She smiles down at it. It's a mutt like Rainy Day, but in a more Labrador kind of way, and a less Cattle Dog/Boxer/Saluki kind of way.

“Hey,” she says, voice automatically going up into 'talking to cute animal' range. “Does your old bones need the warmth?” The dog wags as if to agree, looking quite healthy for all the grey around its muzzle.

“He's not that old,” a man says, and Molly does her best not to jump out of her skin.

“Sorry,” he says, smiling when she looks up. “That's Winston. He's about seven now.” He comes closer, turning to rest his back against the fence next to her, sighing and pulling off his grey cap and running a hand through his dark curls. He has total three-day wino stubble, but it works for him.

“Premature grey, huh?” She says.

“Yeah. Started when he was only about four.” He smiles down at the dog, who yawns and wags his tail, looking utterly content with life.

“Mine's called Rainy Day,” Molly says, nodding toward where Wally is chasing Rainy Day around in a delighted circle. “The dog, I mean. The kid is Wally. Well, Walter. He says he's too old for Wally.”

“You have to listen to them about things like that,” he says sagely, tucking his hat into his pocket and unzipping his coat. “My daughter spent all of yesterday with her shirt on inside-out, because having your parents help you get dressed is for babies.”

Molly laughs. “Wally did that kind of thing. Now the problem is that he's growing like a weed and that if it ruins clothes, he will fall in it.”

“I was kinda like that,” he says, and they both pause, having one of those moments when you realize that real grownups would have introduced themselves by now.

“Molly... well, Foster again. Widowed,” she adds, because she likes to get it out of the way.

“I'm sorry,” he says, shaking her hand when she offers it, “but I'm glad to meet you.” He's about her height, and Molly is shallow enough for that to be a strike against, but he has big hands and manages to be firm and gentle at the same time, and doesn't do anything weird with the handshake. “Will Graham,” he adds. He has beautiful eyes and she can't deny a slight flutter by the time she lets go, even as she's trying to figure out where she has heard that name before.


	2. It's Complicated

The thing is, it creeps up on Will. He had been as sympathetic and supportive as possible while Alana had agonized over Margot, but only now does he truly understand. It's not as strange as it should be to have a terrible epiphany about the nature of his relationship with a friend, and at least this one is much more pleasant. 

Will and Molly have a well-established friendship by now, alternating whose job it is to get the coffee as the weather gets colder and colder, and they're standing by the fence where they met, watching as Walter tries to drink hot chocolate and make yet another futile attempt to get Rainy Day to understand fetch at the same time. Molly is telling him about her plans for Thanksgiving when he suddenly realizes that he wants to kiss her. 

It's like some kind of healthy mirror of that fevered time with Alana. The pull is so strong that his muscles tense to lean in before his brain catches up and tells them in no uncertain terms to keep him upright and platonic. Not only has he not talked to the girls about it, Molly doesn't even know their situation. She knows the literal truth about Morgan, that her mother is married to another woman, but he had added, 'It's complicated' in the interests of real honesty (so important in his family after everything Hannibal put them through) and Molly had left it at that, in her placid, accepting way. 

She soothes him in a way that only Bev and Alana can really do, and sometimes Alana isn't calm enough to have that effect, and he just gets more and more tense with her. Margot takes over then, and Bev collects Will and everything works out, but feeling it here with the woman who's supposed to be just a friend is kind of scary, even with all the terror Will has seen. He manages to keep her from noticing that anything is off, though, and even registers that she and Wally are going to join a friend who wants to show their Korean exchange students a traditional Thanksgiving.

“I feel kind of like a dick because I don't even know anything about Korean food,” Molly is saying, her breath puffing out in little clouds around her face. “But then again, the point is for them to try American stuff, they can feed us Korean later.”

Will chuckles. “It's good. Usually you end up with rice, a bunch of little side dishes, and something like stew or bulgogi. To go fancier you add more sides.” He's able to answer most of Molly's follow-up questions, after years of Katz family Thanksgivings, the menu a fusion of American, Korean, and German cuisine.

He's brooding over the conversation later that day, wondering what he should say to the girls, if anything, when Margot pounces on him. She takes his drink from his hand and settles side-saddle on his lap, looping one arm around his neck and taking a sip of stolen whiskey.

“Spill,” she says. “I know that look.”

He chuckles, automatically cradling her. “You do know that look.”

“So what's wrong, pun'kin?” She always calls him that a little sarcastically, to cut the deep affection.

“Well. I'm afraid of fucking up a good thing,” he says, taking his drink back.

“...Do you have a boner for the nice lady at the dog park?”

“...Yes.”

“I knew it. Alana,” she calls over Will's shoulder, “you owe me five bucks!”

“I do?” She yells back, and comes charging in from the kitchen. “Seriously, Will?”

“I am in fact attracted to the nice lady at the dog park.”

“Well, Morgan likes her kid,” Margot points out, and Alana smiles.

“When I met a wonderful woman we brought her in,” she says, and Margot blushes a little, after all this time. It's adorable.

“She still doesn't know about this whole scene,” Will says. “I didn't mean to lie, but you know. At first we were just people at the dog park, so I told her that Morgan was mine and yours and Alana's, and left it at that. She thinks Beverly is some kind of roommate, and that makes me feel like an asshole.”

“Only a bit of an asshole,” Margot assures him.

“I think we should invite her to dinner,” Alana says, and they've all come far enough for the phrase not to give them goosebumps.

Of course Thanksgiving is spent with family, and then there's a vicious cold snap where it's not worth going to the dog park, but in the last days of December, Will catches up with Molly again. Rainy Day and Walter have both visibly grown since he first met them, and the realization makes him smile through his nerves.

“Hey, Will!” Molly beams at the sight of him, and holds out a cup of coffee. “I know it was my turn when we left off.”

“It was,” he says, accepting the cup with both hands. “How was Christmas?”

“Exhausting, but at least Wally's old enough to travel pretty well.”

They talk about the holidays and about the small doings of dogs and children, and they're nearly done with their coffee when Will realizes that he still has to say the important thing.

“So, do you want to spend New Year with us? If you've got nothing else going on.” He does his best not to actually shuffle his feet, but isn't sure he succeeds.

“...Who's us?”

“Just me, Alana, Beverly, Margot and a few friends. And Morgan, of course, but she's not gonna make it to midnight.”

“Wally won't either.” She looks into his eyes and smiles, a little nervous around the edges. “...Would this be a date?”

“If you want it to be,” Will says, trying to not to blush. “But I need to explain a few things.”

“If it's gonna take a while you can come back and have lunch with us,” she says, and Will accepts, taking out his phone to text this information to the girls. As he follows Molly's car, he gets three texts, and checking them in her driveway, finds that Margot is encouraging him to go after Molly, Alana is hoping he enjoys his date, and Beverly is wishing him luck. He smiles, feeling blasphemously fortunate, however this goes.

Molly's house is small, with a generous yard in the back and a lot of baseball memorabilia on the walls. Rainy Day knows the dogs well enough to let them into her house without complaint, and Molly sends the whole crowd out back with Walter as she puts some water on to boil.

“Spaghetti and meatballs okay?”

“I'm pretty much pescatarian, but I can deal.”

“They're separate,” she says, bringing out a jar of good quality red sauce and setting it by the stove. “You can just have this, and no meat.” She looks out the window, smiling to see Buster and Rainy Day playing together while Walter throws a stick for Winston. “So,” she says, turning back to Will a moment later, “you said it was complicated.”

He smiles back as best he can. “Yeah. Okay.” He takes a deep breath. “I'm really starting to like you, but it's not just about you and me. Remember how I said Margot is married to Alana?”

“Yeah.” She looks curious now, trying to figure him out as she waits for the water to boil.

“Well, I'm kind of part of that, and not just because of Morgan.” He runs a hand through his hair, hoping this doesn't sound wrong. “Margot shares Alana with me and with Beverly. The four of us are a unit, but that doesn't mean you can't be part of it.” He's looking down at his hands by the end of it, not daring to meet her eyes.

“...Well,” she says at last. “Thanks for being honest.” Will's heart sinks, sure that she's about to throw him out, and his little dogs too. “I'll have to think about it,” she adds. “And if it's still a date, I'm wearing something pretty. Don't let me overdress.”

Will stares at her, keeping back a sudden and happy laugh. “I won't,” he says, and then lets the laugh out, Molly joining in.


	3. New Year

New Year has never been a big deal for them. First Wally was too little to notice, then too little to care, and then John was dying and then Molly kind of stopped caring, herself. So this year Wally can't help but notice the difference in his mom as she keeps checking her phone and either looking nervous or giggling. With what seems like half her wardrobe piled onto her bed, Molly wonders when the hell she become such a total Mom. It's enough to drive her to despair, but she finally finds that little black dress with the sequins at the neck and hem. 

It's not too low-cut, but advertises the existence of her tits, small but still nicely shaped after nursing Wally, and shows off her clear skin. Silver chandelier earrings, a matching necklace, and the basic black heels she has had for longer than Wally has been alive finish the outfit. All told, it doesn't take long, but Molly fusses with her makeup and hair until they're nearly late anyway. At least she knows herself well enough that the champagne and cookies she's bringing are neatly packed and waiting by the door, right next to Wally, who has only had to get into his second-best pants and a clean shirt. They'll probably be spending the night there, so his backpack is sitting at his feet beside Rainy Day, with some toys, some comic books, the two novels he's supposed to read for school, and some art supplies. Hopefully he won't get bored.

“Mom?” Wally asks, once the whole menagerie is in the car, cookies balanced on the back seat next to Rainy Day, who stares forward at the road.

“Yeah, sweetie?” she asks, not taking her eyes off the icy road. She may have Dog for her copilot, but it's nasty out here.

“Do you like Will?”

“Like _like_ him?” She asks, swerving around a pothole.

“Yeah.”

“I think I might,” she says, because it's best to be honest. “But you know, I have to spend more time with him to be sure. It takes a while to love somebody.”

“Even me?”

She laughs. “No, baby. I loved you when you were still in my belly. But with grown-ups you need to learn more about them. I'll tell you when I know.”

“Okay,” he says, hugging his stuffed triceratops.

“Are you excited to meet Morgan's moms and the other dogs?”

“Yeah,” he says, and then reaches to turn up the radio as a Patsy Cline song comes on. She's glad that it's not one of the sad ones, and they sing along as she drives through the night, looking for Will's farm. Apparently there was a barn on the property when he bought it, and Margot brought her horses when she moved in, so as Will had said, even though they only grow a few vegetables, it pretty much has to be called a farm. He had also warned her that it was in the middle of nowhere, and she misses the turn before she sees a little house across the snowy fields, the lighted windows making her think of a boat on the ocean. She makes a slippery U-turn and trundles back to the small road and from there to the long driveway. 

The crowd of happy, bounding dogs makes her sure that it's the right place, especially when she spots Winston, Buster, Coraline, Applesauce, and Querida. There are three others, but all of them are friendly, and sniff at Rainy Day as she sticks close to Molly, a little overwhelmed. Golden light spills out, silhouetting Will as he opens the door, coming out to take the platter of cookies from Wally, ushering them in and keeping the dogs from surging after them until they're safely out of the way. The whole inside of the house is full of warm, golden light and the smell of salmon baking with maple sugar. It's also full of beautiful women, and Molly can't help a little flash of real anger that Will never mentioned that all of them were this hot, even as she knows she's being irrational.

“Good evening, Molly,” one of what must be Alana and Margot says, standing up from the couch where her wife sits with Morgan in her lap. She has a strong, classic face and dark hair in a wavy, side-swept thing that's like a bob but more androgynous. She's wearing an elegant wine-red sheath dress, and the glimmer at her throat is probably a real ruby. She holds out a hand and Molly takes it, trying to ignore the sudden impulse to fret over the state of her nails. “I'm Alana Bloom, and this Is my wife, Margot Verger. It's good to meet you. And Walter, Morgan has told me all about him.”

“Hi, Walter!” she chirps, waving furiously from her lofty perch. Her mother smiles at her, stroking her dark curls as she looks up.

“All good things,” she says, her voice a little scratchy. She's beautiful too, with sharper, smaller features and a sleek fall of straight hair about a shade lighter than Alana's, but there are hard lines of old pain on her face, and something wary in her big grey eyes. She's wearing olive drab and making it look amazing, while Morgan looks like a little flower in ruffled pink overalls. It's a good choice, nice enough to make a little kid feel fancy while letting her easily hop down to hug Wally and ask him what's in his backpack. Bless his heart, Wally sits down on the couch and goes over the whole inventory with Morgan as Beverly emerges from the kitchen, wearing something simple and blue, her glossy hair twisted up in some effortless and amazing way.

“Hi, I'm Beverly and finally done chopping vegetables. Ooh, cookies?”

“Cookies,” Will says, holding the tray out to her. Now that Molly can spare a moment to look at him, she sees that he cleans up well. He has actually shaved properly for once, and is wearing grey slacks and a plain white button down, the sleeves rolled up over his forearms.

“There's molasses spice, chocolate chip, and peanut butter,” Molly says. “I might have overdone it.”

“Nah,” Beverly says, setting it on the table next to a platter of cheese and crackers. “The rest of the guest list will inhale them.”

Over the next hour, the various friends filter in. There are two guys who work with Beverly and their supervisor, which seems like it would be awkward. There is something awkward about it, but it's hard for her to figure. Yet another lovely brunette shows up soon after them, but she's far too young for Will. Her name is Abigail, and she wears an ornate, jeweled collar and a cloche cap that make her look like a refugee from 1923. Will introduces her as the little sister he never had, and Morgan runs to her to demand hugs as Alana starts pouring champagne. The glasses are little plastic flutes, and Wally and Morgan are both fascinated as Margot serves them carbonated raspberry lemonade.

Will and Beverly vanish into the kitchen soon after, returning with salmon, rice, and all kinds of little chopped up side dishes. After everything is served and everyone has complimented the cooks, which they seem kind of uncomfortable with, Wally demands a taste of champagne because he's 'nearly ten.'

“Hey, kid,” Beverly says, “I may have the bottle, but your mom's got the say-so.”

“Pass me the bottle,” Molly says, and pours a tiny spot into Wally's glass, passing it back to him. “There you go, big man.”

“Thank you,” he says, obviously trying not to roll his eyes, and then knocks it back. He sits there for a moment, mouth puckered, and then yelps, “BLEH!” making the whole table crack up.


	4. Midnight

Molly has never been much of a drinker, but that is not true of the whole guest list. At first everyone just sips and talks quietly about the past year and whatever else, but once Jack Crawford leaves and Alana and Margot clear the table of everything but cookies and crackers, there's the shift of energy Molly was expecting. The impossibly gorgeous older blonde has been vacuuming up champagne this whole time, but now the others join her. Mercifully, the blonde does not get pukey, grabby, or loud. Jimmy gets loud, but a happy round of show tunes is fine. Still, she's a bit out of things after a certain point, and ends up in the corner with Peter, who can't drink because of his meds. 

He's obviously brain damaged, but seems stable and also like a genuinely nice guy. He tells her that her dress is pretty and that her son and her dog are well-behaved, and god knows that flattery will get him everywhere. He's just telling her about his life with a multitude of pets and the hollow-legged blonde, whose name is Bedelia, when Will appears beside them.

“Hey. Sorry I abandoned you for a minute, there. I don't see Abby often enough.”

“I understand,” she says. “Besides, I've been having a lovely time with Peter.”

Will smiles at him. “Good. How are the rabbits?”

“They f-figured, figured out wh-who's boss,” he says, twitching a little, the way he does. “It's fine now.”

“That's good,” Will says, sitting down beside Molly. “The rabbits were fighting,” he adds.

“R-rabbits can get, can get real mean,” Peter says, and then his face is transfigured with a holy glow as Bedelia comes and settles onto his lap. Molly had already gathered that he worships the ground she staggers on, but the look on his face when she's actually in his arms is so beautiful it hurts. She says something to him in Italian, just barely slurring.

“You kn-know I never re-remember any foreign,” he says, and she giggles, trailing one fingertip down his jaw.

“I forget, my precious one, because you are so very clever.”

“It's not even eleven-thirty, Bedelia," Will says, "you're cut off until the toast.”

“All right, all right,” she murmurs, resting her head on Peter's shoulder and sighing.

“C-can you get her some water, please?” Peter asks, and Will smiles.

“Of course. I'll be back,” he says, and heads for the kitchen. Peter smiles, looking straight ahead as he carefully fixes Bedelia's mussed hair. They are such a weird fucking couple, but Molly can't deny that they're cute. Peter spots Bedelia as she guzzles the big Solo cup of water that Will brings back for her. It's not fair, even wasted she's gorgeous. She takes a second cup, and then obediently ambles off to the bathroom to freshen up, making a surprisingly straight line. Will sighs, watching her go, and then looks around as Margot taps his shoulder, standing there with Morgan propped on her hip.

“Somebody insists that it's Daddy's turn to read her a story.”

“IzD'addy'sturn,” Morgan mumbles, her tiny rosebud of a mouth stretching into a huge yawn. 

Will gives Molly an apologetic look, and she just laughs. “Believe me, I understand.”

Will smiles back at her, the expression so sweet it takes her breath away. “Yeah, you do.” He stands up and takes Morgan, softly asking her what kind of story she wants as he carries her up the stairs, Winston following them.

Margot smiles, taking Will's empty seat. “He's probably the most adorable man I've ever known. Sorry, Peter,” she adds, and he laughs. “Though you're pretty cute now that you're letting Bedelia cut your hair.”

“Th-thanks, I _think_ ,” he says, and she grins at him, suddenly looking years younger.

“So, Molly," she says. "What do you think so far?”

“I usually don't like parties where I only know one person before I arrive, but this one is pretty good,” Molly says, draining the last of her second glass of champagne. 

Margot chuckles, studying her in a feline kind of way that makes Molly remember her various bisexual phases. “What's your limit?”

For a moment Molly doesn't understand, then she laughs. “Four, at the outside. I'm not a total lightweight, but I'm out of training.”

“I understand. After having Morgan and then staying drug-free to nurse her...”

“You were a featherweight,” Molly says. “I know that feel, bro.”

“Exactly.”

Molly does her best to stifle a yawn. “Ugh, when did I get so old?”

Margot laughs. “Would you like to come and take a look at the guest room?”

“Sure,” she says, and looks around for Wally, gratified to find him sitting by the fire with Rainy Day, and apparently content to remain there, tired but determined to stay up until midnight. “Hey. I'm gonna go look at our room, okay?”

“Okay, Mom,” he says, and yawns. 

She chuckles, and ruffles his hair. “Try to stay awake. It's only about another half an hour.”

“I'm gonna do it,” he says, getting that set look on his face that reminds her of John. She kneels and kisses his cheek, scratching Rainy Day behind the ears before going to rejoin Margot, who beams at her and takes her hand. “You really are lovely,” she says, and Molly blushes, following her upstairs. There are three doors, and the last one is the guest room, which has musical supplies and some visual art stuff as well.

“Beverly plays violin and I play flute,” Margot says, “and Alana paints. We make Will keep all his fly-fishing crap downstairs.”

“Seems reasonable,” Molly says. There's only one bed, but it's queen-size, plenty of room for her and Wally to share, and there are more than enough pillows and blankets. The finished canvases on the wall are beautiful, Impressionist/Abstract things, and Molly reminds herself to study them later, to see what they might tell her about Alana. For now she assures Margot that she and Wally will be quite comfortable.

“Emotionally?” Margot asks, in that scratchy, sardonic voice, and Molly chuckles.

“I'm not going to say this isn't weird,” she says, “but seeing all of you together helps.”

“Good, we were afraid it would be too much.”

“Well, walking in was pretty intimidating, but you've all been nice, and this way I know that you guys actually know about each other.”

“Always key,” Margot says. “Come on, it's almost midnight.” She holds Molly's hand again on the way back. Molly laces their fingers together and Margot smiles.

Wally has managed to stay awake, and raises a glass of raspberry lemonade in the group toast to another year. There's a solemnity to it that the kid misses, and Molly wonders about it before the clock strikes twelve and she kisses Wally on the cheek for luck.

Afterward, everyone plunges out into the snow so that Beverly and Brian can light a few fireworks while Will keeps the dogs under control. It's a good thing, too, because Rainy Day's first impulse is to run away. But Will holds her collar, pressing her body against his own and talking quietly to her. She still has her tail between her legs, but by the end of the display she has realized that she'll survive it. She grins in relief when it's all over, wagging her tail as Will praises and pets her. 

Molly realizes she's a little drunk when the way he purrs, “Good girl,” makes her feel flushed and strange. She drains her glass, profoundly grateful when Wally says that he's really tired. She leads him inside as he wishes everyone a good night and a happy New Year. Molly takes him upstairs, and helps him into his pajamas. It seems like bad luck to begin the new year without brushing your teeth, but Wally is pretty much asleep on his feet, so Molly just tucks him in and tiptoes away once she's sure he's down for the count.


	5. Afterparty

Will's favorite part of a party is when it's over, and that's not because he hates parties. They're actually pretty good when they're made up of family and real friends. But he likes that late-night feeling, when people are relaxed and not too drunk, drifting down towards the break into separate sleeps, but still a long way from their destination. Brian is sunk back into one corner of the couch, Jimmy lounging in his arms, the closest to sleep of anyone in the room, even Bedelia, who has started to slur a bit but is still making good points in her discussion of fashion with Abigail and Molly, while Peter sits at their feet and murmurs quietly to Rainy Day, who has decided that he is her new best friend. 

Will is pleased to see that Abigail has taken her hat off. Her hair hides the missing ear anyway, but for Abigail to actually feel like it's doing the job, she has to be comfortable. She's laughing with Molly as if they've known each other for years, and Molly looks like she belongs here, in a way that's hard for Will to place. He's probably just drunk. He doesn't even like champagne, but finishes his current glass anyway, as Alana and Margot slip off to the kitchen to 'clean up' which probably really means 'make out like teenagers,' bless their hearts. 

Beverly is on the free end of the couch, debating Star Trek versus Star Wars with Brian, because they are a pair of hopeless geeks. She's so beautiful it hurts, a literal ache around Will's heart. Her shoes are long gone, and her stocking feet are tucked up under her, her hair loose now, and a little tousled. He goes to her, perching on the tiny available edge for a moment to hug her and kiss her cheek.

“Unprovoked drive-by affection, nice,” she says, turning to kiss the corner of his mouth. “Hi, baby.”

“Hi,” he mutters, feeling ridiculous and not minding. She chuckles, running her fingers through his hair.

“Just a lil' wasted?”

“Just a lil',” he says, and she kisses him again while Brian gags theatrically.

“Christ, guys,” Brian says, rolling his eyes and adjusting the dozing mass of Jimmy, “you don't catch us acting like that.”

“Haters gonna hate,” Beverly coos, kissing the tip of Will's nose just to be annoying as Jimmy blinks and stirs, nuzzling into Brian's beard.

“Gettin' really tired, honeybear,” he mumbles, and Beverly cackles as Brian goes pink and lets out a long-suffering sigh.

“Then I guess I ought to take your drunk ass home.”

“Prob'ly,” he says. “You smell nice.”

“This doesn't count,” Brian says, standing and hauling Jimmy to his feet, “he's way drunker than Will.”

“It counts,” Beverly says to Will, and then gets up to walk them out. Will rises and says his own farewells, making sure that Brian manages to pour Jimmy into the passenger seat without incident, and Will goes back inside to find Peter and Bedelia about to take their leave as well.

“There are only two bad things about Peter,” Bedelia is saying to Molly, sitting on Peter's lap in one of the armchairs, “one is that I cannot teach him Italian, and the other is that he cannot drive.”

“Small flaws,” Molly says with a dramatic and tipsy wave of the hand.

“Indeed,” Bedelia says, kissing Peter's scar. “And neither of them his fault.”

“I-if you didn't, didn't like the barn, it'd bother me more.”

“The barn?”

“It serves as a guest house,” Will says, feeling the little chill that comes every time he says something that wouldn't have been out of place in Hannibal's mouth, after all these years.

“And we l-like it there,” Peter says.

“Can I walk with you and see it?” Molly asks when they stand up.

“Yes,” Bedelia says, offering a hand to Will. “You come too.”

“I suppose I can give Margot's love to the horses,” Will says, and gives Bedelia a look to let her know that she's not fooling anyone as she arranges them so that taking Molly's arm on the way over to the barn is inevitable. The path is icy and Molly can actually use the support, at least. She almost falls, near the end of their journey, leaning heavily on him and laughing.

“Should've changed into my boots,” she says, and Will smiles.

“We seem to be managing okay,” he says. Peter unlocks the barn door because Will gave him a key years ago, and holds it open for the others. Bedelia just ambles in with the ease of long familiarity, going to Bucephalus and cooing softly to him. Like his namesake, he's a little wild, but all the horses like Bedelia because she never makes any sudden movements or raises her voice above a murmur. He nuzzles into her palms as Molly stands by the door and looks around, fascinated. 

The four horses Margot couldn't bear to sell live here, along with Will's bigger mechanical projects and the three semi-feral cats, all of whom are currently hiding. The guest quarters take up half of the hayloft, and Will is honestly proud of it. A carpet remnant rolled over the rough floor was the beginning, and then the little half-wall to keep the hay from spilling over. Now there's a two-man tent full of bedding, a short-legged coffee table, cushions to sit on, a few books, and some shelf-stable snacks and bottled water.

“This is like the coolest clubhouse ever,” Molly says, walking the length of the stalls as Peter goes from one horse to the other, talking quietly to them, and Bedelia laughs, so softly that Bucephalus doesn't even toss his head.

Will smiles, going with her. “We try.”

“What's on the other side?” She asks, stepping carefully in her impractical shoes.

“Just some junk I'm working on,” Will says. “Boat motors, broken appliances, that kind of thing.”

Bedelia says something in Italian to Bucephalus, kissing his nose and then stepping back and looking to Molly. “Please, join us in the loft for a moment.”

Molly does not need to be asked twice, and climbs up first, followed by Bedelia and then Peter and Will. Up above, she's kneeling on a cushion and beaming. “Best. Clubhouse. Ever.”

“There's even liquor,” Bedelia says, and then smiles at the look Peter gives her. “No, darling, I'm done for tonight.”

“Besides,” Molly says, “anything else on top of champagne is usually a bad idea.”

“Hell, half the time champagne is the bad idea,” Will says, settling onto a cushion beside her as Peter fetches Bedelia a granola bar and a bottle of water.

“A-anybody else want, want anything?” When no one does, he settles next to Bedelia, who nibbles daintily on the bar. 

Molly smiles at them. “I have to ask, how did you two meet?”

“It was, it was a bad time,” Peter says, and Will can feel chagrined concern radiating from Molly. He takes her hand and squeezes it gently. She squeezes back. “I don't... it's not that I can't talk about it, but I don't want, don't want to s-scare y-you.”

Bedelia sets the bar and the bottle on the table so she can hug Peter. “He means that when Will met him, he was being framed for murder, and had actually done something a bit disturbing in response.”

“I w-wasn't, wasn't s-smart, like I am now.” He chuckles, shy and self-deprecating. “Not that I'm s-so smart now, but m-my social worker h-had me on the wr-wrong m-meds.”

Will has been waiting for his own name to ring a bell with Molly, and watches her closely now as Bedelia says, “Do you remember the Clark Ingram case, three or four years ago?”

“...Oh my god,” Molly says, “that was you! I'm so glad you're doing better,” she adds, reaching across the table with her free hand to take Peter's and give it a friendly squeeze before letting go. “What you did was messed up, but I remember feeling so sorry for you when I read about it. I know you were trying to help.”

“I met him when he was in custody afterward,” Bedelia says, pressing a kiss to his scar. “They consulted me about his medication, and by the time I was no longer legally involved, I was utterly charmed.”


	6. Two A.M. Cheese And Crackers

On the way back to the house, Molly leans on Will more than she needs to and he loves every moment of it. She's soft against him, thicker than Alana and skinny little Margot, and not full of hard muscle, like Beverly. It's a nice feeling, and he's glad to stop so she can gaze up at the stars, their breath puffing out in little white clouds.

“God, you can see so many from here,” Molly says, wobbling a little and laughing as she clings to Will's arm. “Whoops.”

“I've got you,” he says, and she smiles at him.

“Yeah, I think you do,” she says, and leans in, giving him plenty of time to turn away. Will has seldom wanted to do anything less in his life, and can't help a little noise in his throat when she kisses him, because it's so soft and so warm. Alana's gentleness is a cool, controlled, and studied thing that Will loves, but Molly's impulsive warmth and tenderness has its own nearly unbearable beauty. He sighs, one arm around her waist and the other sliding into her hair to cradle the back of her head.

“Wow,” Molly whispers, their lips parting just enough to allow speech, and Will laughs softly, kissing the corner of her mouth.

“Yeah.” He nuzzles into her hair, breathing in her scent.

“It's so weird to be having a moment with a guy with three girlfriends.”

“Two girlfriends and one of their wives, if you want to get technical,” he says. “Is it bad-weird?”

“Not so far,” she says, and shivers, taking his hand. “Come on, it's cold out here.”

The house feels much warmer when they come back in, and Will smiles to see Abigail sprawled on the low bed by the fire, already asleep, or close enough to count, surrounded by all the dogs that aren't part of Rainy Day's cozy heap in front of the fire. Abigail cracks her eyes just a little and smiles at them before snuggling down into the pillow again.

Will sits on the edge of the bed, leaning down to kiss the side of Abigail's head, missing ear hidden by the silky fall of her hair. “G'night, darlin',” he murmurs, and stands again, glancing over at Molly as she hangs up her coat and pulls her feet out of the stupid wobbly shoes. Okay, for heels they're not that bad, and it's not as he didn't enjoy being leaned on. “Hey, you hungry?”

“Kind of, yeah.”

“Two a.m. cheese and crackers?”

“I would be delighted to join you for two a.m. cheese and crackers,” she says, with a giggle that probably hasn't changed since high school. Will formally takes her arm and leads her into the kitchen, which looks as though Alana and Margot did some cleaning before heading upstairs to check on Morgan and/or fool around in ninja-like silence. He and Bev never have any idea how they do it.

Molly hops up to sit on the counter and swings her long legs as Will spreads soft goat cheese on rosemary crackers. She's not doing it on purpose, and that makes it a lot more effective. He concentrates on making an attractive circle on the plate and then pouring two glasses of the strawberry lemonade, since both of them are quite drunk enough.

Molly giggles again when he says so. “You are so right,” she says, and sips her lemonade. Will leans against the counter as they nibble their way through the plate, listening to Molly as she tells him about her life. Just as she's reaching present day, Rainy Day comes trotting in, gazing soulfully up at the cheese.

“Sit pretty,” Molly tells her, and Rainy Day sits down, dainty front paws crossed. Molly smiles, and gives her a bit of cheese and then pets her and tells her all about what a wonderful puppy she is, leaning forward to do it and making her dress ride up and down at the same time. Will has to agree that Rainy Day is one of the bestest puppies ever.

“Personal question:” Molly says, sitting up again, “but did you guys make Morgan the old-fashioned way, or not?”

Will smiles wryly, remembering it. “We did. It was strange and a little sad, but mostly good. Alana made it be mostly good. And of course Bev helped, you've seen how good she is at a party.”

“Beverly is pretty great,” Molly says. “So what happened?”

“Well... Morgan was actually conceived to get around Margot's shitty family. I mean, we adore her, but it was a lesbian trying to get pregnant for financial reasons while afraid for her physical safety. It... it could've been really bad, but the girls stayed with her and kept it as gay as possible. And I was tied up and blindfolded.”

“...Am I a bad person for being turned on by that?”

“The reason for the sex sucked. The sex itself was pretty great.”

“Oh, okay.” She drains her glass. “And that kid is clearly the joy of her mother's life.”

“Family is very important to Margot. She wants to get it right.”

“Yeah, I've known a lot of people like that.” She yawns, and wobbles a bit. “Well, it's been a lovely tea party, but I should go to bed now.”

“Come back to ours? To cuddle, I mean.”

“Tempting, but Wally's expecting me to be there when he wakes up, and I think I'll be out cold pretty soon.”

“Point,” Will says, and kisses her again, following her upstairs so she can check on Wally. He looks in on Morgan, glad to see her fast asleep, her teddy bear tucked under one arm and her lighthouse nightlight going strong. He creeps over and kneels by her bed, telling himself that he's just admiring the child before admitting to himself that he's checking under the bed. There's no one there or in the closet, or on the ledge of the window where only someone like Hannibal could balance for any length of time. He sighs, and reminds himself that there's an alarm set for the roof, and makes himself leave his daughter's room.

“Worrying?” Molly asks, and he feels ridiculous to see her already bare-legged under an enormous t-shirt, her hair braided to one side for sleep.

“Yeah,” he says, trying to smile. “I, uh... well, shit, _all_ of us have history. We worry a lot.”

“Everyone has history,” she says, “and parents always worry a lot.” She kisses his cheek and the way it makes the skin tingle is ridiculous. “Try to get some sleep.”

“I'll try,” he says softly, tilting his head to kiss her mouth again, unable to resist her warmth. She sighs, leaning into him for a long moment before gently pushing him away.

“Go to bed before I do something stupid,” she says with a smile, and Will smiles back, brushing a lock of hair out of her eyes.

“Good call,” he says softly, and watches her vanish into the guest room before going to join the girls. They generally all share this bedroom since it has its own bathroom and is mostly taken up by the kind of enormous bed four adults need to be comfortable. Alana is already asleep on one side, Beverly covering Margot in slow, lazy kisses beside her. 

Will chuckles. “Should I lock the door?”

“I'm mostly just being affectionate,” Beverly murmurs, and Margot giggles, hugging her. Will strips down and crawls in next to Alana, cuddling her and letting out a contented sigh. “Everybody comfortable?”

“Yeah,” Will says, reaching across to rest his hand on Beverly's hip. Margot puts her hand over his and Alana makes a small noise in her sleep, nestling into Will's chest. He kisses the top of her head and closes his eyes to slide into a peaceful dream of water.


	7. New Year's Morning

“Mom! Come on, wake up!” 

Molly opens her eyes and groans, rolling over as Wally shakes her arm. There's sunlight streaming in through the window, and she can hear the general clattering of a family in the kitchen downstairs. “Ugh, it's morning, isn't it?”

“It's totally morning, and I smell pancakes!”

“I smell coffee,” Molly says, sitting up, “and you know which one I care about more,” she adds, poking the ticklish spot on Wally's side and making him giggle and squirm away.

“Grownups are weird and coffee is gross,” he says, sticking his tongue out, and she laughs, pulling on the pair of jeans she brought with her as Wally scrambles into fresh clothes, bounding out and down the stairs. Molly follows him, because she refuses to put on a bra and a real shirt when there's coffee and pancakes to be had. She turns out to be right in line with the general dress code. Beverly is wearing pajama pants and a faded t-shirt that must be Will's, refilling Alana's coffee cup as Margot sucks her own down in a desperate way that Molly can relate to. 

Alana is swathed in a wine-red robe, and Margot is wearing an actual pajama set. It's a snappy vintage-looking number in navy blue with white piping, and the two of them are some of the most put-together caffeine zombies Molly has ever seen, and Morgan is fresh-faced and giggling in a pink nightgown, sitting next to her mother and shoveling down pancakes. Will is standing at the stove and apparently deeply involved in making more, wearing an undershirt and a pair of a plaid pajama bottoms that have obviously seen better days. Molly is glad to be able to turn the tide for Team Slob.

“Morning!” Beverly calls. “Coffee?”

“So much coffee,” Molly says, getting Wally settled next to Morgan. “And what have we got for Wally?”

“Morgan is having chocolate milk,” Beverly says, “but that's because she insisted. We also have normal milk, guava juice, and a jug of some kind of organic limeade with ginger in it.”

Wally opts for guava juice in the interest of novelty, and happily accepts the short stack that Will gives him, drenching it in syrup as Beverly fills Molly's mug and Will starts another pot of coffee. Much as she could go for some bacon, the pancakes smell promising and so does the vegetable scramble that Will tips into the other skillet as Abigail comes wandering in from the other room at last, wearing an enormous t-shirt and rubbing her eyes.

“Mornin', everybody,” she says, and Molly joins the general quiet chorus of response. There's something odd going on as Abigail joins Will at the stove, but they're clearly having some kind of moment, so Molly looks away, catching Morgan's eye instead, which makes the little girl giggle. Molly smiles at her, as Bedelia comes in, Peter at her heels.

“T-took care of horses,” he says, slipping his feet out of his boots and padding to the bathroom to wash up while Bedelia groans at the current lack of coffee and then just rests her head on the table until Will can provide. Everyone else seems used to it, passing things over her head. 

Abigail settles in between Bedelia and Molly, rolling her eyes. “Really, auntie, you shouldn't overdo it at your age.” 

“Bite your tongue, child,” Bedelia murmurs, and Abigail just laughs.

“Don't be mean to Auntie Bedelia,” Will says, approaching with two plates of pancakes. “She may be a lush, but she's our lush.”

“D'aaaaw,” Abigail coos, and Bedelia just makes a disgruntled noise into the table. 

Will chuckles, but there's a weird, nervous-hopeful-tender look in his eyes when he hands Molly her plate. She's not sure why, so she just gives him an encouraging smile and thanks him. 

By the time Peter gets back and takes his seat next to Bedelia, the coffee is done. She sits up and sips it black, while Peter opts for guava juice. Once everyone who wants them has pancakes, Will circles the table with a skillet full of eggs.

“Ugh, we should have gone home,” Bedelia mutters, and Peter snorts.

“You were one who said, who said it was t-too cold to r-ride the horse.”

“Right, and I've got to get us home in time to take care of the dear little money sink.”

“Y-you like her,” Peter says, serenely sipping his juice as Will hands Bedelia a loaded plate of her own. 

“So you have a horse?” Molly asks Peter, and he nods.

“Just, just the one. We don't really have space for any more, but when I wasn't working at the stable anymore, I missed them.”

“There are also two goats,” Bedelia says, “and four cats and two rabbits that are entirely more trouble than they're worth.”

“I heard about some of the menagerie last night,” Molly says with a smile. Will finally sits down with a plate of his own, and Morgan grins at him. 

“Daddy, what did you dream about?”

He smiles. “Being a stone in a stream. You?”

“I was a fish!” Morgan crows, sounding vindicated. “You had moss on you,” she adds, picking an onion out of her eggs and nibbling on it.

Will chuckles. “You're right.” Again, there's something complicated in his eyes, and Molly wonders what this little game of theirs means, which leads her try to remember where she knows the name Will Graham from, because she does, it was familiar the day they met.

Shortly after breakfast, Bedelia puts on an enormous and very dark pair of sunglasses as she and Peter say their farewells. It's warm enough with the sun to stand around on the porch and watch them round the turn to the main road, and Morgan and Wally scramble for their gear, bursting out the door to play in the snow the second their last few snaps are done, the dogs surging out with them. Margot goes out to greet her horses and take a short ride, while Beverly gets a game of poker going with Alana and Abigail, and Molly and Will sit on the porch swing with fresh cups of coffee and watch the kids as the morning sun makes the steam glow as it rises from the coffee. 

It's fucking idyllic, and Molly really wishes she wasn't still trying to remember where she knows Will's name from. She's starting to feel irresponsible, like she should have looked him up by now to make sure he's not a sex offender or something. Not that the way he treats Wally has given her the slightest cause for alarm, but if there was cause for alarm, that would be the point.

“Will?” She asks softly, and he looks away from watching Morgan make a snow angel as Wally chases Querida and Applesauce around.

“Yeah?”

She sighs, and fidgets with her cup. “I... I've been trying to place where I've heard your name since the day we met.”

“Have you placed it?” He asks, and he sounds so sad that she wonders if he really is a sex offender, and hopes it's just for public urination or something.

“No, and I figured I'd ask you before I asked the internet.”

“Believe me,” Will says with a smile so sad that she wants to kiss it off of his face, “I appreciate that.” He sighs, gazing out at his daughter again as she makes Winston perform the various tricks he knows. “So yeah. I'm Will Graham, the former FBI profiler who didn't kill all those people.”

“...Oh my fucking god,” Molly breathes, and she knows that it sounds like horror, and it is, but horror at what happened to Will, not at the man himself. To prove it she takes his hand and gives it a tight squeeze. “You poor thing!” Another realization follows on the heels of the first. “So that's Abigail Hobbs in there, right?”

“Right.”

“Wow.” She sits back, taking a moment to just absorb this information. She doesn't let go of Will's hand, though, and she can tell he appreciates it. “I was already glad I know you,” she says at last, “but now I'm even gladder, to think how nearly we never met.”

“Thank you,” Will whispers, sounding dangerously close to tears. Molly just holds his hand, the laughter of children and the various noises of playing dogs filling their silence.

“Omigod!” Molly squeaks after another minute or so.

“What?”

“Beverly is Beverly Katz!”

Will laughs. “Yes, yes she is.”

“I already had a girl-crush on her as a matter of principle, but now that I've met her...”

Will laughs again and kisses her hand, giving her an adorably shy look as he does. “She'll be even happier to hear that than I am,” he says, and Molly laughs.


End file.
